Sunrise: A Parody
by Sullen-Apple
Summary: A parody of the somehow popular Twilight "saga" by Stephenie "Bella Swan" Meyer. Preauty's world is turned upside down when the Sullen family move to Folksy, Greenland. What sort of crazy crackfest will ensue when she discovers the family's secret?
1. Chapter A

CHAPTER A: Abrupt Arrivals and Abnormal Aberrations

My story begins the way all great stories do; a strange family moves to a small town. This town is isolated, overly simplistic, and most likely haunted. This was true on all counts for Folksy, population 742, Greenland. Folksy was situated between towering snow capped mountains and cracked, thinly ice glazed lakes. Our lonesome little town endured more snow storms per annum than anywhere else in the southern hemisphere, and was most certainly haunted, or so everyone said, by the "hollowed-out shells of former human beings" that were the old people.

You see, a few years back during the "Super-beauty Epidemic", everyone started feeling really depressed and hopelessly scared when they saw people who were older than fifty years of age; their wrinkles, gray hair, crinkled eyes and veined appendages reminded the young and superficial that one day they too would lose the youth that they had obsessively striven to maintain for so long. The five thousand dollar perky breasts would start to sag, their two thousand dollar botox injected faces would soon stop reacting to treatment and would one day break apart into the cracks and creases of dreaded time. They would also lose their full heads of radiant, youthful hair to old age.

And since fifty years of medical breakthroughs had created an army of elderly that threatened to dominate the planet and very soon outnumber the young and beautiful, they were forcibly relocated far, far away. Out of everyone's sight and minds.

And so now we have them, and it appears I'm the only one genuinely happy about it, or at least, I am happy about it now. Because I have a secret. A dark, horrific secret that I have never told anyone, but one that I am struggling to maintain control of more and more each day. But more on that later, for the old people weren't the only new arrivals to Folksy, the Sullen family were also new.

It is their arrival that makes mine the greatest story ever told.

My name is Preauty Pecker, but everyone calls me Pru, and yes; my parents were from Utah, they are both dead now though.

Well, at least most people call me Pru anyway, the kids that go to my school, Folksy High, call me "Wood-Pecker" or "Pee-Pee". The first is actually a clever pun on my last name, and is to insinuate that I am a no-good cheap slut, and the latter is a use of alliteration, inspired by the fact that my first and last names both start with the letter "P". It also insinuates that I am a childish idiot. I am, of course, non of the above. I am the best academic achiever at my school, getting straight A+ in all my subjects, despite the fact that I never need to study – or the fact that I am forgetful, to the extent where it has become a grave affliction and effects my going about simple daily activities. It effects my going about simple daily activities.

All the students at my school – and there are two hundred of them – insist on calling my these derogatory nicknames because two months ago I was stuck in a terrible snowstorm. My face was so horribly disfigured from frostbite that I needed to have facial reconstruction surgery – to my shock however the procedure went wrong – it made me absolutely gorgeous. This of course lead to ninety of the one hundred boys at my school asking me out – but I refused each and every one of them, of course – publicly humiliating them and leaving them emotionally scarred for life. After my refusal of these suitors, seven of the one hundred females at my school got the wrong idea and also asked me out. I refused my suitor-ettes in a similar fashion, of course.

Now, please do not think me vain or self obsessed – I didn't reject anyone because I thought myself better than they were, well, except for Lewis; who, despite the fact that he could be attractive, had no respect for his physical appearance; or for the sanity of everyone else. He was obese, had buck teeth, was covered in acne and, worst of all, had glasses. He had been asking me out since he first came to Folksy, five years ago. He was also the only one to still call me Pru. Apart from Lewis, who was simply the biggest geeky loser I had ever had the displeasure of knowing, I rejected them because unlike most people, I was not attracted to people my own age. This was my terrible secret, and had been forged the very same night that my physical transformation had begun. That fateful night two months ago.

*****

I had been trapped in the heart of a frozen demon. For two hours I had endured the cruelty of the icy stings cutting deep into every inch of my exposed flesh. I could almost instantly feel the physical pain of my body shutting down from the cold, but I was determined to not be defeated by the immortal monster that was the storm, I allowed myself just to let it beat down on me in endless onslaughts of the worst kind of abuse, but I didn't give in and let it obliterate me.

After a lengthy struggle, the blizzard had finally started to seep into my brain. I was entirely aware of this strange transformation within myself, new thoughts taking shape behind my eyes. I went from being in agonizing pain and trapped to actually enjoying it, feeling thrilled and deeply aroused by what was happening to me. The sheer brute power and strength of the storm awoke some either newly discovered or long forgotten side of my psyche. I was bewitched – completely – by the violent fury being inflicted upon me by the deranged elements.

The storm had changed something else in me, or had allowed for another change in me. When I went back to work this new change became fully realized and had manifested into my terrible secret, infinitely impossible to act on, but even harder to ignore. The secret I harbor is an attraction to those many a year older than me. Not entirely their physical appearance, more what they represent to me. What they represent is the epitome in authority and supremacy, with their stupendous, limitless wisdom, malice and abuse of power. I think that a subconscious connection was made between my grandfather, who raised me with his fists and his own concentrated form of tough love, and the storm. Now all I can see is the need for a partner who treats me like my grandfather; controlling, demeaning, and therefore everything I need to have my own version of a fulfilling and loving relationship.

When they found me, they said I was lucky to be alive. I knew even then that is was some kind of Fate that changed me as it had, and kept my body alive. It was to prepare me for the next, and greatest chapter of my life. So that I would be ready for him – the love of my life, my love at first sight, my reason for living, my body, my soul, my very heart beat. My everything. My George Sullen.


	2. Chapter B

**CHAPTER B: Beautiful Beings and Being Besotted.**

The Sullen family was moving in across the street from my house, and I had a great view from my bedroom window. All of them had grey tinted skin that showed up mesmerizing against the wall of white that was the elegantly falling snow.

There were the two who appeared to be the parents, they were both in their late thirties. The man was tall, stick thin and looked incredibly fragile, yet vindictive, oozing with that special brand of corny evil, with a goatee and jet black hair; slicked to perfection. He looked precisely like every villain to make an appearance in a bad detective movie, like he was someone's evil twin.

The woman could only be described as a snowman on fire. Her skin was far paler than the others, other than a boy, but he will be described later. And her hair was flaming red. She looked slightly older than her husband, and was hauntingly familiar to me, yet I couldn't put my finger as to where I may have seen her before. There were also four children with them, all of them appeared to be couples by the way they were groping asses and kissing each other. I found this slightly disgusting and small bells of illegality rang out in my ears. I decided to ignore this thought in order to better take in their appearances.

The first couple consisted of a boy with dark skin and an afro, and a girl with spiky purple hair and piercings over her entire body. They were cool.

The other couple was less so, as they looked most peculiar. The boy appeared to be golden in colour, he had shiny white hair and red eyes that I could see all the way from my bedroom. The girl was without a doubt the ugliest person I had ever beheld – her and Lewis would make a perfect couple, I caught myself thinking, then laughed at my own great joke.

I couldn't resist myself – I had to go down there for a closer look at this circus sideshow alley family. The parents – I found out – were called Jacob and Elizabeth. The cool couple were called Jazz and Victoria, but she preferred to be called Vic. I smiled to myself, thinking how much we had in common. The strange couple – and it turned out that the boy was not actually golden, he was an albino, and his skin was an absolute white, he was just so freckled that from a distance he looked gold. At a closer distance, it also became apparent that his eyes were electric blue, and only shone red when they caught the light a special way. His name was Regan, and his partner was named, appropriately, I thought, Ick. I considered the possibility that it may be short for Victoria, which would be odd indeed, having two children named the same thing, so I asked. No, her name really was Ick. I laughed for a whole minute.

I welcomed them to Folksy, then went back to my house, leaving them to move and unpack their possessions in peace. This was the first time that I regretted being unhelpful and lazy in my life, because it turns out that I missed meeting the fifth child, George, by not even a whole minute. It was sad to have missed him, because he was the love of my life, love at first sight, my reason for living, my body, my soul, my very heart beat. My everything. But he wasn't yet, because I hadn't seen him yet.

I did see him the next day at school, though.

*****

The day started off as normal, most children glared at me in that heartbroken, pathetic sort of way. I was used to this and paid it no attention.

At lunchtime I met George for the first time. He was so beautiful I creamed myself. We were introduced by the Principal, and I was given strict instructions to show him around, familiarize him with all aspects of the school. I showed him the toilets, the classrooms, and what I assumed were the cliques of the school. I had difficulty with the last request, not knowing anyone on a personal level.

I couldn't help notice that George walked strangely, slowly; like he was dragging his feet along. _Lurching_. I often had to go back and drag him, just like I had to help the elderly at the Old Folk's Home. It was amazing just how much he reminded me of them. He even smelt bad, jut as they did. He smelt rancid, like month old chicken that had been marinating in the sun. This was mixed with various other, more pleasant smells that were obviously implemented to try and cover the offending odor, but they were about as powerfully effectual as sparkles on a vampire. Sure, sparkles were a pretty cool thing, but underneath it all was still a cold hearted monster would that kill and devour you without a second thought.

I found myself thinking these thoughts about vampires and odors, and how unappealing they were, but all the time I couldn't get myself to think of George in this way, unappealing I mean, he was definitely not a vampire. True, usually I hated the smell of rotten meat, but it worked so well on George. It complimented him perfectly. He was that exception to every rule.

He kept a very stiff face the whole time I was with him, as if being in my presence offended him, as if he thought me the most boring person he had ever met. The way that George glared at me was entirely different to the way the others glared at me. His sincerely felt like a scowl at my general existence. It was foreign, it was unique, special, and his face strangely suited the expression. His soft, round features took on a jagged, dangerous appearance that was frightful and breath taking. He had the face of a seventeen year old, yet he had the eyes of a middle aged man that had lived a life so undisputedly dull that he acted eighty.

This quality intrigued me. It made me interested in George, who, despite never speaking a single word to me, was certainly the most interesting person I had ever met. The fact that he seemed to think me so boring and plain in comparison caused me feelings of despair, of agony, of unexplained betrayal and like he had broken an eternal promise to me.

These thoughts puzzled me, but somehow I knew that he could explain them, if ever I talked to him. He could give me answers to these questions I longed to make sense of. I decided to make it my goal to speak to him every day. Force him to converse with me, force myself into his life, and ultimately, his heart. These thoughts, this longing to be intimate with someone my own age, it was all so new to me, but I accepted them, just as I had accepted the new thoughts that arose during the storm. I took it that, again, Fate was telling me something, I thought. I should revel in this opportunity at happiness. Even though the other person seemed to want nothing less in the entire world. Oh well. He would soon change his tune, I thought.

After I said goodbye to him, I left for my next class, that I didn't have with him. All I could think about was his face. His perfectly rounded face, his slightly grayish skin, his button nose, his deep blue eyes, the exact colour of fancy blue sapphires, eyes that I could swim in, that I could drown in, happily. And his age, how his eyes seemed so infinitely old and wise, yet his face was so new and smooth. It was peculiar how he could exist, but I was ever so grateful that he did. I remembered back to the day before, when I met his family. Where George had the eyes of someone who had lived the long tragic life of a great hero, their eyes told only of people who had lived rich, happy and eventful lives. I didn't like that. George had the air of someone in agony, in pain, someone who was suffering. A broken man who could be fixed, healed; but only by the right woman. I knew the right woman, it was me. I was the right woman!

I left school feeling weird. I couldn't get George out of my mind. With all the thinking I had been doing about George, there was no room left to think about anything else, that is why I forgot that I had driven my car to school and walked home instead. When I remembered about the car three hours later and went back to get it, it was gone. Bugger, that was the second car that had been stolen because I left it at school with the keys in the ignition. Damn you thieves, this is all your fault! If Grandpa was still alive, he would have been super pissed at me. He wasn't alive though, I had to live all by myself. Which posed a real danger as I was constantly forgetting things; like leaving the stove on, or the bath water running. The repair bills I received were shocking, luckily, Grandpa had left all his money to me in his will.

I forgot almost everything, but I could never forget George's perfect face, his perfect eyes or his perfect mouth, perfectly twisted into a perfect snarl. I was possessed by his perfect presence and all I knew was that, by the end of my first day knowing him, I wanted to know him for the rest of my life.

About four things I was certain I remembered. Firstly, he was the most gorgeous person I had ever met. Secondly, he most likely hated me for absolutely no reason, and there might be a part of him that wanted to kill me in my sleep. Thirdly, he was probably not human. And lastly, and most importantly, I was obsessively, insalubriously and irreverently in love with him.


	3. Chapter C

**Chapter C: Concentrated Calamities and Cabaret Comas.**

I couldn't get to sleep that night until past midnight. I was tossing and turning, thinking about George. I also kept hearing frightening sounds coming from my closet, like there was someone in there, breathing heavily and not entirely succeeding at not making noises. I finally got to sleep and dreamt of George. I woke up in a real need for a cold shower at four in the morning. Much earlier than I normally woke up. I decided that since I was up so early. I would try really hard to make myself look irresistible for George. That day at school.

I took out a floor-length, strapless mauve dress and put it on. The I curled my hair, creating tight ringlets that fell to and caressed my bare shoulders. I applied perfume and makeup and wore a pair of silver heels. I brushed my teeth three times and put a small bottle of mouth wash in my school backpack, just in case. The rental car that I forgot I booked was already waiting for me in the driveway. I drove to school and waited outside on a bench under a picturesque, flowering tree. Waiting for George to arrive. So that I could greet him.

He didn't come. How strange, I thought, for a new boy to not come to school on his second day. The rest of his brothers and sisters were there. But George wasn't. It was lunchtime. I sat alone in my formal dress. Eating a chocolate pudding. He still wasn't there. I felt tears of bitter disappointment fill my eyes and threaten to overflow, I was going to ruin my makeup!

Well, tomorrow I would not bother to dress up for him. Tomorrow, if he even decided to show up, he would not be in for a treat. He would be punished for his hurtful action today. I would make sure of that!

I remembered about the car and drove home, trying my absolute best to run over something to relieve my anger and frustration. I ran over a snail. I felt a lot better, but when I got home I still ripped my dress off and threw it at a wall, followed by my shoes and chandelier earrings. How dare George Sullen not come to school? Who did he think he was?

I didn't get to sleep that night either, exhausted as I was from throwing things at walls all afternoon. I was still much too upset and restless to actually fall asleep. George entered my room, he went through my draws and took a pair of my underwear, I closed my eyes and feigned sleep as he came towards me, stopping by my bed and smelling my hair. He told me, in soft, caramel tones that he was sorry for not coming to school that day. I decided that I must actually be dreaming, because George hated me, and would never want to come into my room. He said that he couldn't bare going to school with me, because he was so dangerous and that his feelings were too strong, that they may expose him for what he really was. After a long minute of silence, only broken by the soft patter of snow falling on wet ground, I said, in my carefully sleep talking voice, "I love you, George."

In my dream I could hear his breathing starting to become jagged and shallow, then quicken in pace. After what seemed like an eternity, he replied, "George who? Who are you referring to, you stupidly vague woman? Is George Harrison the man who has conquered your heart? George Bush? George Clooney? George Costanza, oh lord, please don't let it be George Costanza."

Trying hard not to laugh at his foolishness and give myself away, I said, "George Sullen. I love George Sullen."

"WHOOP!!!! Oh yeah. Right on. That's what I'm talking about. Victory is mine." I heard what sounded distinctly like a victory dance, but I was afraid to open my eyes to check. Then he was gone.

What a strange dream, I thought to myself when I woke up in the morning.

I took the dream as a sign, a sign to repeat the same routine as yesterday, and hope that today George was there to admire my efforts as I pursued him. He was there. He was dressed in a beautiful blue suit that matched his eyes. I was dressed in a blue and grey cocktail length silk charmeuse dress that clung suggestively to my body. I waved at him as I walked into school. He almost waved back, but then remembered himself just in time and passed the movement off as him just picking his nose. My heart skipped a beat as I relished in the fact that he acknowledged my existence. And picked his nose so seductively.

He sat alone at lunch, for some reason rejecting his family, much to their annoyance. I walked into the cafeteria and sat down across from him. We sat in silence for a long time. Finally he spoke up, "Pru, I think you are a nice person. But I am going to hurt you. You don't want to make me hurt you, do you? I would appreciated it if you sat somewhere else tomorrow."

I almost broke down into tears over his words, his awful words that choked me with every syllable. Should I respect his wishes and deny myself my only chance at happiness? No, that would be too hard for me to do, I couldn't bear not having George in my life.

"No," I said, determined with all my might to change his mind. "I don't think you will hurt me. I think that you are afraid of being hurt. But don't worry, I will not hurt you."

"I know you will never hurt me. I realize you are a good person, a selfless person, an amazingly caring and thoughtful person. I would never live with myself if I hurt you."

"Then let's go on a date on Friday. If, by the end of the evening, I feel the slightest bit hurt by you, then I will never talk to you again."

"No, stay away from me. Damn it, you stupid, seemingly deaf woman. Can't you see that I can hurt you more than you could ever imagine! I could destroy you. Get out of my sight, you disgust me. I despise and loathe you." With these last words he spat at me from across the table and stood up to leave. They were the last words I heard for a week. Before his foot had left the floor in an attempt to get up and out of my life, I saw the world go black. I passed out and into a coma.

During the one week I was in the coma in a ward at the local hospital I had the strangest visions. An entire story played out in my mind like a Rock Opera. The Sullen family starred in it, but George was the lead. The musical was about a family of zombies who moved into a giant freezer to stay fresh. They were civilized and didn't want to eat human brains, but it was hard for them. They all ate icecream and tap danced in the finale. Then I woke up.


End file.
